


Dynamics

by celtic7irish



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: ABO dynamics, Alpha Steve, Alpha Tony, M/M, Omega Bucky - Freeform, Sex Line Operator AU, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-01 02:18:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14510364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtic7irish/pseuds/celtic7irish
Summary: Bucky is an Omega working for Dynamics, a sex line agency that helps unmated Alphas during their ruts.  Tony is an unmated Alpha recently disinherited by his father.  Tony just moved into an apartment, and caught a glimpse of the hot loner down the hall.  Bucky just wants to be left alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EchoSiriusRumme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoSiriusRumme/gifts).



> Based primarily on this prompt, with a bit of ABO thrown in there as a result of a separate prompt:
> 
> Sex Line Operator AU. ‘I have a very cute neighbour and very thin walls and one day I get a call and err your moans are very synchronised with my neighbour’s’, with Bucky as the Operator and Tony as the client & neighbor.
> 
> I...may have taken a couple of liberties with the prompt, and strayed a bit off the brief, but I hope it's close to what you were looking for!

Bucky hung up the call with a decisive click, glancing at the timer on his desktop.  Twelve minutes. He scowled. That wasn’t enough to pay the water bill, much less the rent.  But it was worth it to be rid of that particular client. Bucky shuddered; he felt sleazy by association. He’d had enough when the man on the other end of the line had ordered him to _“beg like a little Omega bitch”_.  That wasn’t what Dynamics offered.  If the client had wanted to hear an Omega begging, there were plenty of websites he could visit..

“That was quick,” an amused female voice spoke over his computer.  Bucky dropped his head to the desk.

“I feel dirty,” he muttered into the wood.  

Natasha laughed softly, and Bucky resisted the urge to flip her off.  Nat had been the one that had gotten him this job - a job that didn’t require him to leave the apartment and deal with people face-to-face.  He was just a voice on the telephone, using words and the low-frequency Omega purr to get unmated Alphas off during their ruts. Alphas could, of course, take care of themselves during a rut, but even just the voice of an Omega had been scientifically proven to give them better, more fulfilling orgasms. Bucky didn’t believe in that kind of science, but whatever. It meant there was a niche for Omegas in the phone sex industry, which meant that Bucky could have a job that didn’t require him to leave his apartment. And it paid the rent most months and got Steve off his back. It was a win-win situation, as far as he was concerned.

But some days, he’d really just rather not deal with people at all. Even anonymously over the phone.  Some of the Alphas made his skin itch, and he fought the urge to claw at his skin to make the crawling sensations go away.

Natasha was still talking, and Bucky forced himself to pay attention.  “I must admit, that was a masterful redirection, though,” she told him.  “I don’t know that I could have done better myself.” Bucky felt something warm and pleased settle in his mind at the blatant praise.  Really, all he’d done had been to offer the client an alternative - after all, it was a little hard to beg with a cock shoved down your throat - but it had done the trick quite neatly and distracted the client.

“I’ve put him on the black list,” Natasha told him, and Bucky murmured his thanks.  That client’s number would never be directed to any of Dynamics’ Omega operators. They only got one strike.  It was a hard line to take, but there were ten Alphas for every one Omega in the world, so it’s not like an agency like Dynamics couldn’t afford to cut off a customer here and there.

“You able to take another call?” Natasha asked carefully.  Bucky grimaced; he’d really rather not, but he tried not to beg off unless he absolutely couldn’t stand to deal with one more person.  It happened sometimes, and when it did, Natasha didn’t ask questions, didn’t push.

He nodded, meeting her eyes on the computer screen.  “Yeah,” he agreed. “What’ve you got for me?” Every new client had to answer a brief survey before being connected to an operator.  It gave the call center a chance to determine which Omega would be best suited to help the Alpha on the other end of the phone. Sometimes, an Alpha got through to an Omega that really never should have, like the client Bucky had just gotten rid of.  And then it was up to Natasha or Bobbi to look into how they’d gotten past the initial screening and close the gaps.

“Twenty-three year old Alpha male,” Natasha told him.  “Bi-sexual, prefers casual relationships, unmated. Likes to wine and dine.  Real smooth talker. Also, a late bloomer. First rut was at twenty-one.”

Bucky felt his eyebrows raise in surprise.  That was really late for an Alpha to go into rut.  Usually, they started around sixteen. High stress or a poor diet could sometimes interfere with that, but still, five years was pretty drastic.  “He ever use an Omega help service before?” Bucky asked.

Natasha shrugged.  “Unknown,” she replied simply.  “But judging by the way he was answering the questions, I’d guess not.”  She was grinning now, amused, and Bucky wondered just how awkward the guy’s replies had been, for Nat to have taken note of it.

He nodded.  “All right. I got ‘im,” he agreed.  “Any preferences?”

Natasha shook her head.  “Not according to his survey,” she told him.  Which could mean that the guy really had no idea what he wanted and was hoping Dynamics could help him, or it could mean that he knew exactly what he wanted and intentionally skewed the survey to get past the screeners.

“Awesome,” he muttered.

Natasha grinned, and with a flick of her wrist, she was gone, and Bucky was left with silence.  Straightening up, he put on his best smile. “Welcome to Dynamics,” he parroted into the headset.  “My name is James, and I’m here to help you. What can I do to please you?” He let his voice drop to a lower register, practically purring through the phone.  An Omega’s subvoice sent a subtle signal to Alphas that let them know when an Omega was happy or scared or angry or sad, a sort of emotional barometer that most Alphas responded to instinctively.

“Oh, hey,” a male voice spoke up abruptly. “Umm….yeah, okay, sorry.  I don’t really know what I’m doing,” the guy admitted.

Bucky kept his smile ( _customers can hear a smile, Buck, even if they can’t see i_ t) and suggested, “Well, you could start by telling me your name.”  He kept his tone light and interested, polite.

“Oh, name, yeah. Uh...you can call me Tony.”  Bucky couldn’t tell if that was the guy’s real name or not, but it really didn’t matter.  Tony was a pretty common name, after all. Like James.

“Well then, Tony, how about you tell me what you like, hm?  Would you like me to tell you how I’d go down on your cock, slide down until you were so far down my throat I couldn’t breathe?  Or how I’d spread myself out for you, open and slick and oh-so-ready.” He let a little growl slip into his tone, breathless and wanting all at once.

There was a long pause.  “Oh my god,” Tony squeaked.  “I, uh….yes?” he asked. Bucky closed his eyes.  This guy had no clue what he wanted.

He sighed and dropped the seductive tone.  This guy sounded like he might take a little more work, which was annoying, but certainly not the worst thing to have ever happened to him before.  Absently, he reached over and touched the stump that remained of his left arm. “Let’s try something else, then, shall we?” he asked, staring up at the ceiling.  “What do you like to do? When you touch yourself?” He assumed that the guy did that, or he wouldn’t be having this conversation.

“Uh, well, usually when I do it, it’s quick,” the man told him, sounding more confident now that he was talking about himself.  “I mean, I don’t have a lot of spare time. Or, well, I didn’t,” he corrected, sounding almost bitter.

Bucky smiled.  “Friction?” he asked.

Tony laughed.  “I don’t do it dry, if that’s what you’re asking,” he answered, amused.  “Just a little slick, though. My hands are calloused; I like the way it feels.”  Bucky could picture that easily enough; just enough lubricant to make the motion easier, the rasp of a dry palm over the tender skin of his dick.  Maybe he even did a little twist at the end, a small thrill.

“Yeah?” he asked.  “I can work with that.”  

“Yeah? Tony asked, sounding intrigued.

Bucky smiled.  “Yeah,” he replied easily.  “You see, a person’s hands are really sensitive.  You can do a lot with them. You ever have anybody play with your fingers before?”

There was a pause, then an almost surprised, “No.”  

Bucky nodded.  “Well, how about we start there, then?” he asked, letting a subtle purr push through his words.  “Use your fingers to stroke gently across your palm, the inside of the wrist, the back of your hand.  Feel the gentle tickle, the tingle of sensation that passes across your skin. You work with your hands, Alpha?”

“Work with them?” Tony breathed.  “Yeah. But I didn’t realize how…” he trailed off, and Bucky smiled, oddly proud of himself.  To most Alphas, the simple art of foreplay wasn’t what they wanted. They were usually already ramped, already in the stages of their Rut, and they just wanted a voice on the other end of the line, someone to push them over that edge.  But this guy seemed like he might appreciate the journey it took to get there. Bucky glanced at the clock on his computer; if he was lucky, he could get enough out of this Alpha to pay the rent, and then use any extra earnings for groceries or something.

Bucky returned his attention to the conversation.  It wouldn’t do to leave his Alpha client hanging, after all. “Slip your fingers down the inside of your arm,” he suggested, “to the crook of your elbow.”  There was another soft sound of surprise, and Bucky grinned. His own arm wasn’t particularly sensitive, but he knew that for some people - especially those that liked to work with their hands - it could be an erogenous zone.  Stronger than even the dip of the throat or that small patch of skin behind the ears.

“I like to follow the trail with my mouth,” he murmured, standing up and moving to the bed.  His shift was almost over, which meant Tony was probably his last call for the night. He might as well get comfortable.  “Brush kisses along your wrist, suck your fingers into my mouth, get ‘em nice and wet. Maybe a hint of teeth, a bit of scrape and pressure.”  He was only guessing here, but since Tony apparently enjoyed friction, he’d probably enjoy the thrill that a hint of teeth offered, the threat of a bite at any moment.

“Yeah,” Tony breathed, and Bucky could hear it then, the sound of a body shifting on a comforter, “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, settling onto his own bed and stretching out, grateful that Dynamics provided all their employees wireless headsets, so he didn’t have to stay at the computer or try and hold a phone to his ear with his shoulder while he used his good arm to do laundry or throw together a sandwich or something.  “Because I like to use my mouth. I’ve been told I’m very good at it.” Actually, what he’d been told was that he was a mouthy brat of an omega, but Rumlow had certainly appreciated what Bucky could do with his mouth, too. As long as it wasn’t talking.

Shaking off the memories - Rumlow was gone, killed in the crossfire of a gang war, and Bucky couldn’t bring himself to mourn the loss.  Losing his arm had been more traumatic.

“Oh?” Tony purred.  “How good?” The question sounded almost sincere, and Bucky wondered what Tony would say if he admitted he could knot cherry stems into a chain with his tongue.  

“Good enough to take your fingers, and then your cock,” he purred instead, adding a subtle push into his voice.   _Alpha, I need you.  Fuck me._  On the other end of the phone, Tony groaned, and Bucky grinned, pleased with himself.

“Can you take me the whole way?” Tony asked, his voice tight.

Bucky resisted the urge to roll his eyes.   _Just because they can’t see you doesn’t mean they can’t tell when you’re bored or irritated, Buck._  Damn Steve Rogers and his “I’m trying to help you, why can’t you be reasonable?” tone.  Some days, Bucky really hated having his best friend’s voice in his head, even if the advice was usually pretty sound.

“I can take it as deep as you want, Alpha,” he said instead, inflecting his voice with a subtle tone that told Tony that he’d like nothing better than to swallow the other man’s cock down as far as he could.  “Take you on my knees, swallow you all the way down, so you slide into my throat. You could feel me, if you wanted. Press your fingers to my throat, feel your cock sliding in and out. Grab my hair and set the pace, fuck my mouth and throat until you come, make it so that when I speak, anybody can tell that I just swallowed cock, that I took it like a good omega.”

“Oh my god,” Tony managed to squeak out, his voice hitting a higher register.  “Yes, please. I want to see you, watch you while you suck me off, touch your lips and slide my fingers through your hair, see you enjoying yourself.”  There was a pause, as if Tony was deciding if what he wanted to say next would be too much, would scare “James” off. But that was the advantage of fantasies; he couldn’t hurt Bucky.  He didn’t even know who Bucky was. And if it was something really terrible, Bucky would get through it and then ask Natasha to send the guy to somebody else if he called back.

“What is it, Tony?” he asked.  “What do you want to do to me? With me?”  He was purring now, his hand sweeping down his bare chest to pinch at a nipple, causing him to gasp - he hadn’t bothered to do more than put on sweatpants and pin his hair back into a sloppy bun when he’d gotten up this morning, having no plans to leave the apartment.  Besides, he knew his erogenous zones, and the sounds he made only served to make the fantasy more authentic, to convince the Alpha clients that he was enjoying their fantasies, that he wanted what they wanted.

“I want to mark you,” Tony admitted.  “Pull out and paint your lips and cheeks with my cum, cover you in my scent.”

Bucky blinked.  That...wasn’t terrible.  “Yeah?” he purred. “You’d like that?  Mark me up? Maybe rub it into my skin, so that I’d smell of you? So that I’d smell...taken?”  Not mated, never mated. But claimed by an alpha, bearing his scent? Yeah, he could work with that.

“Yesssss,” Tony hissed, a low growl trickling through the headset.  It made the hairs on the back of Bucky’s neck shiver to attention, pulling at the part of him that told him he’d pleased an Alpha.  “James,” Tony groaned, his voice dropping a register. He was close, so close, Bucky could tell. But he needed just a little something more.  “After….afterwards, would you let me return the favor?” he asked. “Would you let me blow you?”

The question was so unexpected that it threw Bucky for a moment.  He’d given plenty of Alphas blowjobs in his time, but he’d never had one ask to return the favor.  Usually, the Alpha would come down his throat or on his skin, and then flip him over and prep him so they could fuck him, getting them both off.

“If you’d like,” he said, thrown out of the roleplay in his surprise.  He hoped Tony hadn’t noticed.

“I’d like,” Tony reassured him.  “I love giving blowjobs.”

Bucky purred.  “Then of course,” he murmured.  "I’d be all blissed out, covered in your scent.  And ready. So very, very ready. Wet and open, so you could fuck me with your fingers while you went down on my cock.  I can be good, be still, for you.” His hand had slipped into his sweats without conscious thought, had gripped his cock.  He was dribbling precum, a thin, steady stream of it smoothing the way. His fingers caught at the head of his cock, and a small, breathless noise escaped him.

Tony moaned, long and loud.  “Yes, like that,” he encouraged.  “Want you to enjoy it. Be so, so good for both of us.  Wanna make you scream with it. Make you feel so good. God, you’re amazing, letting me blow you.”

Bucky’s purr slipped into a growl, almost a snarl, and he heard the sharp intake of breath before Tony cried out as orgasm took him.  Bucky bit back his own cry, biting sharply down on his lip as he came silently. The Omegas weren’t told not to come - in fact, orgasms were encouraged, gave them an endorphin high, a reward for doing a good job - but Bucky had little interest in actually getting himself off during a conversation with a client.  He usually took care of himself in the shower, quick and perfunctory so he could get some sleep.

“Oh. Wow,” Tony said when he got his breathing under control. “So that happened.”  Bucky rolled his eyes as he pushing himself up, standing to shove his sweatpants off before padding naked towards the bathroom.  “Is it always like that?” Tony asked.

Bucky shrugged.  “Dunno,” he admitted.  “If you mean do the Alphas usually get off, then yes.  But just like each client is different, so are the operators.  You might like somebody else better.”

Tony huffed a laugh.  “Yeah, I don’t think so,” he refuted. “I’ve tried a couple, but it’s never been like _that_.”  Bucky didn’t know what ‘like that’ meant, but it didn’t sound like a bad thing.

“I’m happy to have been of service, then,” Bucky replied, surprised to find that he actually meant it.  It had been a while since an Alpha had actually bothered to stick around after the orgasm. Usually, they just hung up on him once they no longer needed his services.

Tony laughed.  “You know, I can’t tell if you actually mean that, or if it’s just something you have to say, but I appreciate it. Umm…so now what?” he asked curiously.  “I mean, I did a bit of research before calling, but nothing really explains sex line etiquette.”

Bucky grinned.  “Well, you’re paying by the minute,” he told Tony, “so I’m happy to keep talking as long as you’d like.”  Normally, he wouldn’t bother, but Tony seemed like he might actually be an okay guy to talk to for a bit. “But normally, you’d just tell me goodnight and hang up,” he relented.

“All right,” Tony agreed.  “Good night, then, James.”

“Good night, Tony,” Bucky replied softly, listening to the soft click as the call disconnected.  Pulling off the headset, he tossed it onto the counter before turning to the shower and starting the tap, testing the temperature with his hand.

As he stepped into the shower, he found himself wondering if he’d hear from Tony again.  Dynamics kept the calls random, so an Alpha client rarely got the same Omega operator more than once in about six calls.  It would probably be another six months before Bucky heard from Tony again.

He was looking forward to it.


	2. Chapter 2

“Bucky, you really should get out, meet some people,” Steve wheedled, standing in the middle of Bucky’s living room, his hands on his hips as he surveyed his friend.  Bucky just slouched further into the couch cushions, mindlessly clicking the remote. There was nothing good on television in the middle of the day, but it was better than trying to stare down Steve’s disappointed face.

“Don’t feel like it,” he grunted when it became clear that Steve was expecting an answer.  He’d gone grocery shopping the day before; he had no desire to leave the apartment anytime soon.  Probably not until he needed food again, and maybe not even then. He kept a stash of canned goods just for times like this, when his mood sunk so low that he couldn’t see moving from the couch, much less leaving the building.

“Bucky,” Steve sighed.  “Did you even know you had a new neighbor?” he asked.

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly.  “Does it matter?” he asked irritably, not looking at Steve.  “And why would you even know that?” he added.

“Because I worry about you, Buck,” Steve told him in that stupidly sincere voice of his that made Bucky’s shoulders hunch up around his ears.  “And the guy’s an Alpha, so of course I noticed.” Steve wasn’t Bucky’s Alpha, but he was probably the closest thing Bucky had ever had to one, and ever since Steve’s growth spurt, he’d been almost overbearingly protective of Bucky, who had made it perfectly obvious that he neither wanted nor needed an Alpha to be happy.  

As an unmated Omega, Bucky had what the professionals called a dry heat, gone and over with quickly, his body resetting itself back to baseline.  He’d alternate between hot and cold, and his temper would have a shorter fuse than normal. Clothing would feel abrasive against his skin, leading him to wear little more than his softest sweatpants, and he was a bit hornier than usual.  It was nothing like what the trashy romance novels portrayed an Omega’s Heat to be, all out of his mind with lust and begging for an Alpha’s knot. Who even wrote that shit? Probably not an Omega.

“Again, what’s that got to do with me?” Bucky asked.  “I doubt he moved into this dump because he was looking for an Omega.  And even if he does decide to try somethin’, I can still kick his ass. Even with just one arm.”  He laid on the sarcasm, only slightly mollified when Steve flinched. He felt guilty almost immediately, though; Steve was only trying to look out for him.  It wasn’t his fault that Bucky had issues.

“Stevie, look,” he said at last.  “I’m really not in the mood to go out today.  But I have a therapy appointment comin’ up in a coupla days.  You wanna come with me?” He didn’t offer to let Steve accompany him to his shrink appointments often because he still felt vaguely guilty, like he was a burden on Steve’s time, despite the fact that Steve had reassured him several times that he didn’t mind.

Steve was looking at him with an expression that was a mixture between hopeful and concerned.  “You mean that, Buck?” he asked.

Bucky nodded.  “Yeah,” he replied.  “I promise not to run off without ya, punk,” he added.

“Jerk.”  Steve’s tone was fond.  “You should probably still at least say hi to the new guy,” he tried.

Bucky rolled his eyes.  “What for?” he asked. When Steve didn’t reply, he glanced over at him, then sighed.  “Fine, if I come across him in the hallway or somethin’, I’ll say hi,” he promised. Steve didn’t look satisfied, but he let it go.  For now. Bucky turned back to the television. “Anything else you wanna say?” he asked.

“I guess not,” Steve said after a moment.  He hesitated, and Bucky waited. When Steve made no move to leave him alone, he bit back a sigh and shifted over.  Steve took the invitation in the spirit it was meant and sat on next to him on the couch. Bucky leaned into him, feeling Steve’s arm wrap around his shoulders comfortably.  Steve never minded that he was missing an arm, was just happy that Bucky let him hold him. It had taken Bucky a long time after the accident before he would allow the familiar contact, but now he derived comfort from it, if not pleasure.  Steve was warm and solid and _real_ against him.

“So,” Steve said, once Bucky had stopped messing with the remote.  Neither of them cared what was on, anyhow. “How’s work?” He tried to keep the question casual, but failed miserably.  Bucky could hear his voice practically vibrating with curiosity.

He shrugged, careful not to dislodge the other man.  “It’s fine,” he stated indifferently. “Got some nice ones, and some jerks.”  He paused for a moment, then added, more casually than Steve, “Got a new guy the other night, had no idea what he was doin’.  Made some good money, though.” Their conversation from start to finish had lasted about half an hour, which was nearly double what Bucky usually got from the clients.

“Yeah?” Steve asked, genuinely sounding like he wanted to know more, if only because Bucky rarely offered up information regarding his night job.  “Think he’ll call again?” An Alpha’s Rut could last up to a week, same as an Omega’s Heat, but for all Bucky knew, the guy had called on the last day, or partway through,and wouldn’t need to call again.

“Dunno,” he admitted.  “But I don’t think I’d mind if he did.”

Steve’s arm tightened around him briefly before loosening.  “That’s...good,” he said. Bucky tipped his head to give his friend the side-eye, and Steve gave him a chagrined smile. “I mean it,” he said.  “You know I don’t care that you prefer the fellas. Leaves more for me,” he teased, the joke a longstanding one between them. When they’d been younger, Bucky had attracted the dames without even trying, and trying to let them down easy had been harder than showing them a good time.  But every night, the only one he’d take home would be little Steve Rogers.

The two of them had never been more than best friends, and Bucky was more than fine with that.  To him, Steve would always be like his kid brother, irritating and endearing in turns.

“Punk,” Bucky muttered, ducking his head.

Steve just laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky groaned, burrowing deeper under the covers and doing his damnedest to ignore the pounding at the door.  He really didn’t want to deal with Steve right now.  Yesterday’s therapy appointment had gone...poorly.  And Steve seemed to think that was somehow his fault.  He was probably hoping to coax Bucky into going out for breakfast or something equally annoying.

Another round of knocks, and Bucky snarled, dragging himself out of bed, gripping the sheets around his waist in one fist as he stalked towards the front door.  “Dammit, Steve,” he growled as he yanked the door open, “I told you I’m fine!”

The man on the other side blinked at him. “Umm….okay,” he agreed, a bit awkwardly.  “I’m not Steve, but it’s good that you’re okay?” he asked hesitantly, his eyes roving down Bucky’s exposed chest and pausing at the stump of his shoulder before he jerked his eyes back up to Bucky’s face with an apologetic grimace.  “Sorry, sorry,” he muttered.  “I mean, I don’t normally knock on random neighbors’ doors and ogle them, I’ve been told it’s bad PR, but I kinda locked myself out of my apartment and I don’t have a number for the landlord, and I thought maybe I’d see if you did before I try and pick the lock or something, because Rhodey tells me I shouldn’t do that, either.”  Bucky just stared; he was pretty sure the stranger - his new neighbor, apparently - hadn’t bothered to breathe at all while he was explaining.  His voice was familiar, though, and Bucky frowned as he tried to recall where he’d seen or heard the other man before.

Tony must have mistaken his expression, because he grimaced again.  “Oh, sorry,” he said.  “My name’s Tony, by the way.  I...probably should have started with that, huh?”

Bucky blinked at last, then shrugged, watching as Tony’s eyes flicked back to his missing arm before the Alpha caught himself.  “It’s fine,” he muttered.  “Hang on a sec.”  He backed into the apartment and shut the door on Tony’s face, leaving the Alpha standing in the hallway before trekking back across the apartment to his kitchen and rummaging through the various slips of paper he had stuck to his refrigerator door, looking for the one that he needed.  Not that Clint would be much help - the man probably didn’t even know where the master key was - but Tony had asked for it, and Bucky would get it if it meant that the other man would go away.  He wasn’t in the mood to be meeting new people, much less Alphas that couldn’t keep their eyes on his face when asking for favors.

He finally located Barton’s number and jotted it down on another piece of paper before walking back to the door, letting the sheet drop to the floor on the way.  He wasn’t body shy, and he did have boxers on.  Besides, if the Alpha wanted to bang on his door at ass o’clock in the morning, he could damn well deal with Bucky in his sleepwear.

He opened the door, and Tony took a startled step back, brown eyes jerking up to meet his and locking on his face.  “Um...you came back,” he said.

Bucky scowled.  “You asked for a number. I got you a number,” he answered, holding out the scrap of paper.  Tony reached out and took it, glancing down at it before looking back up at him.

“Thanks for this,” he said.

Bucky shrugged.  “Sure,” he muttered.  Something made him hesitate, though, and then offer, “You probably just wanna break in first, then call him,” he suggested.  “I doubt he’s got a master key, and he won’t care as long as you don’t actually break down the door.”  Clint was actually pretty cool for a landlord - he didn’t mind if rent was a few days (or weeks) late, and he was handy with repairs.  He really wouldn’t mind if Tony picked the lock on his place.

Tony considered that for a moment, then shrugged.  “Well, okay, then,” he said.  “A little B&E before breakfast, sure, why not?”  Bucky’s lips twitched upwards, and Tony grinned back at him. “Well, hello, there,” he said, his tone sliding down a register.  “I knew you’d have a great smile.” 

Bucky scowled.  “Do you need anything else, Alpha?” he asked pointedly.

Tony jerked back, a flicker of something almost like hurt flashing through his eyes before he covered it with a grin.  “Naw, this is perfect.  I’m good.  Thanks again. I’ll just go break into my apartment and let you get back to sleep or whatever,” he said, giving Bucky a half-assed salute before turning away and heading down the hall, his head down and shoulders hunched, hands shoved into his jean pockets.  He didn’t look much like a confident Alpha right then, and Bucky bit back the urge to apologize.  It wasn’t his fault that the Alpha had apparently decided that it was okay to flirt with the one-armed Omega.  Bucky didn’t need an Alpha, and he wasn’t about to be roped in by a charming smile and warm brown eyes.

“Dammit,” he muttered, closing the door to his apartment again.  There was a vague itch between his shoulder blades, as if he could still feel Tony’s eyes on him.  He still swore the guy seemed familiar, but even if they’d passed each other on the street, he wouldn’t know.  And Tony hadn’t seemed to recognize him, so it was probably just his imagination.

He briefly considered going back to bed, but he knew he’d just end up lying there, staring at the ceiling.  No, he might as well just stay up.  Of course, that meant that work was probably going to be a bitch and a half later, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.

Scrubbing his hand roughly over his face, Bucky grimaced at the feel of two-day old scruff.  He’d painstakingly taken the time to shave before his appointment with his therapist, mostly because he was getting sick and tired of her telling him that basic hygiene and caring about his appearance was one of the steps to recovery.  He was recovered, he was _fine_.  He had a job and everything.  Just because he didn’t want to go out and socialize, maybe meet a nice Alpha and settle down, didn’t mean that he was broken.  Or that he needed help.

Some days, he really wished he believed his own bullshit.

As Bucky eyed the bed, re-evaluating his decision, there came another knock at the door.  Bucky looked at his bed, looked over his shoulder, then sighed and padded back out to the foyer.  “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered under his breath as he opened the door to a chagrined Tony.  “Lemme guess.  Forgot your lockpicks?” he drawled, turning back around and heading for the bedroom again, leaving the door open.

Tony hesitated, but then stepped inside, shutting the door with a quiet click behind him and then just standing there, like he was afraid to encroach any further.  Bucky struggled into a pair of sweats and a wifebeater that some asshole had found funny.  Probably Rumlow.

Snagging a hair twist, Bucky pulled his hair into a sloppy bun and twisted the band onto it as he walked back out to the living room.  Tony hadn’t moved from his spot, but when he saw Bucky, his eyes widened, his posture shifting subtly in a way that indicated interest.  Brown eyes flicked down to his shirt, and to his credit, he neither laughed (Rumlow) nor got angry on Bucky’s behalf (Steve).  He just blinked.  “Your idea?” he asked.

Bucky rolled his eyes.  “One of my old acquaintances thought it’d be hilarious,” he said.  “But it was free, and it’s comfortable.”  And most days, nobody saw him anyhow, so the joke didn’t matter.

“Okay,” Tony said, easy as that.  

Bucky looked at him assessingly and made a decision.  “Come on in, I ain’t gonna bite ya,” he promised, wondering if he was going to wind up regretting letting the Alpha anywhere near him.

“Well, that’s disappointing,” Tony murmured under his breath as he stepped further into the apartment, following Bucky to the living room.  Bucky barely faltered as he led the way to the kitchen where the coffee pot was. 

Pulling two mugs out of the dish rack, Bucky set them on the counter, eyeing the mess of dishes in his sink.  He was lucky Steve had done the dishes the other day, or he wouldn’t have had _any_ clean mugs.  Setting his under the coffee maker, he pushed a button and waited.  When his was done, he pulled it away, set the second mug under the dispenser, and stepped away, gesturing with his head for Tony to help himself.

“Wow.  Helpful, hot, and drinks coffee,” Tony murmured with a small smile.  “Maybe Rhodey was on to something after all.”

Bucky frowned.  “Who’s Rhodey?” he asked.  He didn’t know anybody by that name.

Tony blinked.  “Oh, sorry.  James Rhodes.  He’s….a friend,” Tony said in that careful way that meant this Rhodey was something else, something more, perhaps.  “He saw you when he was helping me move in down the hall,” Tony added wryly.  “Said I should come say ‘hi’.”

“Why?” Bucky asked, his eyes narrowing as suspicion finally set in.  He didn’t know who Rhodes was, but he already wasn't liking where this was going.  Had this friend of Tony’s noticed that Bucky was an unmated Omega and thought that Tony could be his Alpha?  Because if that’s what either of them thought, Bucky would be more than happy to prove them wrong.

Tony shrugged.  “Because you’re kinda my type,” he admitted.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed further, his mouth twisting into a grimace, and he contemplated taking the mug out of Tony’s hands and showing the other  man  the door.  “Because I’m an Omega?” he demanded bluntly, his tone harsh.

Tony seemed genuinely surprised when he looked up from his coffee and met Bucky’s eyes.  “What?’ he blurted.  “No!  I mean, you being an Omega isn’t a bad thing, but that’s not the reason! I just like tall, dark, and handsome.  And I don’t know if you’ve looked at yourself lately, but you’re all of that,” he said, one hand waving emphatically in Bucky’s general direction.

Bucky wished he’d left his hair down; it would’ve been easier to hide his eyes.  “You must be blind,” he scoffed instead.  “There’s nothin’ appealin’ about a one-armed antisocial loner.”

Tony smirked.  “Oooh!  Brooding, too!” he said, leaning casually back against the kitchen the counter, seemingly perfect at home in the kitchen of a complete stranger.  “Adds a hint of mystique, I suppose,” Tony mused.

Bucky sighed.  “Look,” he said, shutting Tony down as gentle as he knew how, “I’m not lookin’ for anybody right now.  Steve says I should meet new people, but I like bein’ by myself.”  That wasn’t exactly true, but Bucky preferred solitude over having to deal with people staring at his missing arm and general scruffiness, so it was true enough.  “But that doesn’t mean I wanna get to know you.  I’ll help ya get back into your apartment, and it would be rude to have coffee and not offer you some, but I’m not lookin’ to hang out or whatever it is you call it these days,” he told Tony seriously.

Tony’s mouth had slanted downwards while Bucky had been talking, and he looked confused.  “Uh, okay,” he agreed slowly.  “Not your type.  Got it.”  He smiled at Bucky, and Bucky instantly hated it, though he couldn’t say why, exactly.  It just seemed...fake, somehow.  Tony set his empty mug on the counter.  “Well, I thank you for your honesty.  And your hospitality,” he added.  “I’ll just see myself out, shall I?  Rhodey’s supposed to come visit today anyhow.  So….yeah. I’ll just go, okay?” he asked.  “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

Bucky frowned.  “You still can’t get into your apartment,” he pointed out pragmatically, finding himself reluctant to let Tony walk back out the door.  “You just plannin’ on sittin’ in the hallway until your friend shows up?”

Tony shrugged.  “Naw.  I’ve got some people I probably ought to catch up with.  And I’ve got Barton’s number, so I’ll just give him a call, then.”

Tony was already reaching for the door to let himself out, and Bucky realized that he really didn’t want Tony to go.  It had been a long time since he’d spoken to someone who didn’t take one look at his missing arm and immediately pity him.  And it had been even longer since anybody had looked at him with appreciation in their eyes, like he was something desirable, something coveted.  As much as he hated to admit it, the Omega in him was preening under the attention.

That alone was what probably made him hesitate as Tony left.  He watched the door shut behind the other man, and found himself torn between relief and regret.  After a moment, he blinked, shaking it off.  “Get it together, Barnes,” he muttered, turning to drop his mug in the sink with the other dishes.  He’d get to it later.

Bucky’s hand reached up and scratched at his chin as he gazed thoughtfully at the closed door before turning towards the bathroom.  He’d take a quick shower.  And then maybe, since he was up so early, he’d try his hand at shaving.

He very carefully didn’t think about warm brown eyes or an easy smile.  Or the fact that his apartment now held the faintest trace of warm metal and bourbon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Bucky’s Shirt](https://i.imgur.com/ALAJ1qO.jpg)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut. This chapter is 100% sexy times. Just an FYI.

“Welcome to Dynamics.  My name is James, and I’m here to help you.  What can I do to please you?”  Bucky leaned back in his chair, long legs sprawled out in front of him, bare feet pressed into the thick carpet.  He was wearing his softest pair of sleep pants, but he’d forgone wearing a shirt, too warm and too sensitive to bother with it.  He could hear the strain in his own voice, and realized that this would probably be his last shift before his Heat hit and he’d be mostly useless.  An Omega might be able to help an Alpha over the phone, but an Omega that was obviously in Heat?  He’d probably do more harm than good, tugging at the clients’ Alpha instincts without providing them with the satisfaction of actually being with him during a Heat.

Bucky closed his eyes with a pained grimace; rent might be a bit difficult this month.  At least he’d had the forethought to go get groceries earlier, when he’d first noticed the buzzing under his skin.  

“Oh, that actually worked?”  The voice on the other end was vaguely familiar, and Bucky frowned.

“I’m sorry?” he asked politely.

The man on the phone went silent for a moment, then chuckled ruefully.  “Oh, sorry, it’s nothing,” he said.  “This _is_ James, though, right?  Who likes to give blow jobs?”

Bucky rolled his eyes.  Seriously? Like he remembered what he said to which client.  Still, he tamped down on the irritability.  He just had to make it through tonight, take as many clients as he could, and then he’d be done until his Heat was over.  He really wasn’t fit for company when his Heat hit.

“That’d be me,” he drawled instead.  “It’s good to hear from you again.”  He might not remember the guy - there was no need to remember all the clients that called into the agency - but it was obvious that this guy had liked him, which meant that he might be able to draw this out a bit.

The client huffed a small laugh on the other end of the phone.  “You have no idea who I am, do you?" he asked ruefully.

Bucky relented.  “Not really,” he admitted, “but that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy talking to you.”  He let a soft rumble ease through his chest and throat.  “Why don’t you remind me?”

Tony’s hard swallow was audible over the phone. “Uh, yeah, okay,” he said, sounding almost shy.  “I did some research after the first time,” he admitted ruefully.

Bucky grinned despite himself.  What sort of person researched how to do phone sex?  “Yeah?” he asked.  “And what did you find out?”

Tony chuckled wryly.  “Well, I learned what not to do,” he said.  “And I….might have done a bit of digging into employee salaries,” he admitted.

Bucky didn’t even bother to hide the bark of disbelieving laughter, dropping the husky tone in favor of asking, “Are you kiddin’ me right now?”

“Oh! There you are!” Tony said, obviously delighted.  “And no, I’m serious!  I felt kinda bad for hanging up so soon last time, so I did research.”  There was a pause, then, “What are you wearing?”

Bucky bit back the sarcastic response he wanted to give, and instead answered teasingly, “Who says I’m wearin’ anything?”  There was a sharp intake of breath followed by a round of coughing, and Bucky waited it out, letting a soft purr roll through the phone line, soothing the Alpha on the other end until he managed to get himself under control.

“I...wasn’t expecting that,” Tony admitted honestly, and Bucky grinned.  He liked this Alpha. If he’d said that to any other Alpha, they would have either been offended that he’d ‘started’ without them, or they’d be shoving him down on all fours already.  “But I’m pretty sure you all don’t go prancing around the workplace naked,” Tony said, still amused.

Bucky grinned, but didn’t correct him.  Technically, he worked from home, and he lived alone, so there was no reason that he couldn’t wander the apartment naked as long as he wasn’t expecting visitors.  But they weren’t encouraged to reveal personal information like that to clients, lest they get it in their heads that such a reveal was the equivalent of an invitation to come for a visit in person.

“So hard to please,” Bucky complained light-heartedly, his impending Heat mostly forgotten as he engaged the client.  He didn’t even bother checking the time.  Instead, he slouched further down in his seat, tipping his head back towards the ceiling.  “I’m in a pair of skin-tight black jeans and a black turtleneck,” he said instead.  Still a lie, but in the completely opposite direction.  “Heavy heeled boots on, and fingerless gloves.”

“Oh my god,” Tony said faintly.  “I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I’m in.  Picturing you straddled across the seat of a bike, the engine rumbling between your thighs.”

Bucky shuddered, suddenly missing his old motorcycle with a vicious ache.  “Yeah?” he said, his voice hoarse.  “How about you come and join me, then?” he suggested.  “Climb onto the bike, feel the engine roar to life between  your legs as we take off, my body pressed firmly against yours.  You’d be able to feel me, to know that I’m eager to get to our destination so that you can fuck me.  Would you do that?  Take me to some park and fuck me into the ground?” he asked, letting his hand wander.  His Heat would offer him little relief without a compatible Alpha to help balance him out, so he would take what pleasure he could get now, would enjoy this last phone call before biology made him take a break for a few days.

“Fuck, yes,” Tony swore.  “I’d rev the bike to maximum power, send it roaring down the road.  It’ll be almost like flying.  I’d let the bike tease me, tease us both, until we’re practically begging for relief.  Then I’d stop, find a nice quiet little alcove or clearing somewhere - I know a few - and strip you out of those tight clothes.  They’re covering entirely too much skin.” He paused.  “Probably leave the gloves on, though,” he added thoughtfully.  “I bet they’d feel fucking fantastic.”

Bucky could picture it, too.  The slick glide of leather against sweat-slicked skin, the seams biting into tender flesh as he gripped the other man’s hips to pull him forward, so their bodies were pressed together from chest to knees, a leg winding its way between his thighs, giving him something to rut against, the best kind of friction.  

“I’d be distractin’ you while you tried to undress me,” Bucky told him, inserting a confident rumble into his voice.  “Nibblin’ on your throat, leaving little bite marks there before soothin’ them away with my tongue, my hands under your shirt, gripping your hips and pulling you on top of me, so that you pressed me hard against the wall.  I’d grind up against you, let you feel how ready, how eager I am for your cock in me, how much I want you to fuck me.”

“Pushy Omega,” Tony observed, but he didn’t seem disappointed.  In fact, he sounded very much the opposite.  “Pretty, perfect, sassy Omega.”  The praise went straight to the pleasure centers of Bucky’s brain, and he made a pleased chirring sound, which only encouraged Tony.  “Want you to use your mouth on me,” he continued, “want to drop you to your knees there, hidden only by my body and the wall from passersby, make you take me deep as you can.”

Bucky closed his eyes, picturing it, an Alpha cock shoved down his throat, hands gripping his hair to pin him in place while the Alpha fucked his mouth, used him.  He could feel the heat and heft on his tongue, feel it bumping against the back of his throat.  He’d be able to angle his head just so, and let the Alpha slide into his throat, take him the whole way down.

“You seem like the type of Omega that wouldn’t mind switching things up a bit,” Tony added, reminding Bucky that he was, in fact, still on the goddamn phone.  He bit back a curse, his skin feeling prickly and too-tight.  Talking with an Alpha was urging him into his Heat a bit faster than he was used to, was arousing him.  

“Switch up how?” he rumbled, reluctant to end their conversation, even as he realized that he had perhaps overestimated the time he had remaining before the full onset of Heat.

“Fuck me,” Tony breathed, his tone dropping to something that was a mix of arousal and shame, and Bucky’s breath caught.  An Alpha that enjoyed bottoming?  He’d known they existed - there were Alpha-Alpha couples, after all, which usually meant that one or both bottomed.  But he’d never heard of such a thing in an Alpha-Omega pairing.

“Yeah?” he asked, his tone taking on a predatory edge.  “You’d let me tease you, let me slide a finger inside you while I’m choking on your cock, open you up for me.  I’d have to get you nice and ready for me, ring your orgasm from you so that you’re nice ‘n relaxed, so that I can lower you onto my dick, make you take all of me, like I took all of you.  You’d be so very pretty, Alpha,” Bucky crooned, his hand dropping to his lap so he could arch up into it.  He groaned.

“Yesyesyesyes,” Tony was chanting, his voice breathless and light, taut with the effort of not coming too soon.  “You’d be good at that,” Tony surmised, “would know exactly what to do, how to find the best angle.  It would be so good.”  Bucky could hear the strain in his tone, knew he was close.  Just a bit more to push the Alpha over the edge.  He gave it to him.

“Could you come for me like that, Alpha?  Come while riding an Omega’s cock?”  Tony made a sound like dying, and Bucky arched up into his hand, primed and ready, his body flushed and hot.  Heat was gonna be a bitch, but at least he’d have this to remember while getting himself off.

Tony was panting now, sated.  “Oh my god.  It got better,” he said.  Bucky made a sound of agreement and forcibly pulled his hand away, biting back a whimper at the loss.  He must not have been entirely successful, because Tony paused, then observed, “You haven’t come yet.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky managed.  “This call is about you, Tony.”  He very carefully did not think about the way arousal and embarrassment tangled up in a hot knot in his chest.

Tony let out a displeased sounding grumble.  “And I enjoy getting my partners off,” he refuted, making it sound perfectly logical.  “Pretty sure I can still get you off, if you want,” he offered, which Bucky appreciated.  Most Alphas just hung up after they got what they came for, so having one offer to stick around until he managed to come was rare and generous.

Bucky chuckled.  “Ah, it’s fine.  Really,” he said.  “Mood’s gone anyhow.”

“Aww,” Tony pouted, and Bucky found himself grinning dopily at the wall.  He didn’t know what it was about this particular Alpha, but for brief moments in time, Tony was able to make him forget that he was a one-armed Omega with a bad attitude.  With Tony, he could almost - _almost_ \- believe that he was something close to desirable.  It was a heady feeling, and he knew better than to let it get to him.  Tony was a client, nothing more.  He was a job.

“So...any ideas what we should talk about for the next hour or so, then?” Tony asked.  “I mean, because I’m totally up for another round.  Or we can talk about something boring, like the weather.  Or the fact that my washer busted and flooded water all over the place.”

“You’re serious,” Bucky said after a moment, unable to hide the disbelief in his voice.

“Well, yeah,” Tony said, sounding almost hurt.  “I guess you could just put the phone down and go to bed, but I’d like to talk a bit, maybe.  Unless you have other clients?” he asked tentatively, as if it had just occurred to him that he might not be Bucky’s only customer tonight.

Bucky glanced at the clock on his computer, weighed his general emotional and physical state, and made a decision.  Sending a quick internal message to Natasha to let him know he was on his last call and that he’d be off for a couple of days, he said, “Nope.  You’re the last one.  I can do this all night.”

Tony’s laughter made something warm settle in his chest, and Bucky leaned back.  Of all the ways for his Heat to begin, having Tony’s voice jabbering in his ear was certainly one of the most pleasant.

It was almost a pity that he was just a client, Bucky thought as he rubbed at the stump that was all that remained of his left arm.

Almost.


	5. Chapter 5

“Okay, that should do it,” Clint said, twisting out from under the sink with a grin and a wink.  Bucky reached down a hand to help him to his feet, then gestured to the sandwich he’d made while waiting for Clint to finish up.

“Ah, thanks,” Clint said, turning around to wash his hands in the sink.  And promptly dropping the soap dispenser into the basin.  “Aw, soap, no,” he sighed.

Bucky just shook his head in fond exasperation.  Barton was a bit clumsy, but his heart was in the right place.  It made it really hard to get angry at him.  “It’s fine,” he said.  “It’s plastic.”  Clint picked it up and set it back on the counter, then finished washing his hands.  He looked around, and Bucky held out a towel for him to dry his hands with.

“Thanks, man,” Clint said gratefully.  “Let me know if that jams up again, ‘k?”

“‘Course,” Bucky agreed easily.  He might’ve been able to do it himself, but Clint was in the area anyhow, and it took him maybe twenty minutes, where it would’ve taken Bucky three hours.  It had taken the Omega a while to accept that there were people out there like Clint and Natasha that didn’t look at him with pity, that didn’t help him out a  sense of obligation.  They were just decent, helpful people.

“Thanks for this,” Clint said, holding up the sandwich.  Bucky shrugged; it was just peanut butter and jelly, nothing special.  But Clint had just spent the better part of an hour fixing the pipes under his sink.  And he’d managed to not flood the kitchen while doing it.  Feeding him was the least Bucky could do.

Bucky had just opened the door for Clint when there was a loud noise, like something large slamming into a door or wall, and Clint swore, staring down the hallway at number 12.  “If that’s Stark again, I’m going to start charging him double!” he muttered, hurrying down the hall.  Bucky blinked, watching as Clint lifted his fist and banged on the door.  “Stark! Open up!”

A moment later, the door opened, and Tony - his Alpha neighbor Tony - stuck his head out.  His hair was all messed up, like he’d just gotten out of bed.  Bucky could practically  _ see _ the dark circles under the other man’s eyes.

Tony blinked at Clint, then frowned.  “Legolas?” he muttered.  “What’re you doing here?”  Bucky twitched, wondering when Tony had learned that Clint liked to go down to the range and shoot - honest to god - a bow and arrows.

“I was helping a friend out with his apartment,” Clint snapped, “and then I heard a crash.  What the hell are you doing in here?”  He was already pushing past Tony, who just watched him enter his apartment with a perplexed expression before shrugging and turning to close the door.  He looked up, and his eyes met Bucky’s, where the Omega was still standing in his doorway, unwilling to move for some reason.  Tony gave him a small grin and a wave, and then shut the door, startling Bucky into movement.

Stepping back into his apartment, Bucky closed his door before leaning against it with his shoulder for a moment.  What was wrong with him?

Bucky shook his head.  It must just be the last remnants of his Heat, causing him to linger over-long at the sight of an Alpha.

It took him another minute before he was able to step away,   And almost as soon as he did, there was a tentative knock on the door.  Bucky turned around and opened the door, expecting it to be Clint, grumbling about the new neighbor.  Bucky thought it might not be terrible to listen to.  Tony certainly seemed more interesting than most of his neighbors, at least.  And anybody who could get Clint to swear was at least worthy of a little bit of respect.

Pulling the door open, Bucky froze when, instead of the amused blue eyes of Clint Barton, he found himself looking into the warm brown eyes of Tony.  Stark.

The pieces slotted together, and he blurted out, “Oh my god, you’re Tony Stark!”  He knew about the child genius, the only son of weapons conglomerate Howard Stark and philanthropist Maria Stark.  Hell, he’d been on magazines and billboards, and Bucky couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized him sooner. Then again, the pictures of Tony always had him a suit with his hair styled and sunglasses on, a press smile pasted onto his face.  Which looked nothing like the man standing in front of him now.

Tony flinched back, and Bucky felt the urge to apologize.  Instead, he just blurted out, “What are you doing in a place like this?”

Tony scowled, looking like he was starting to regret knocking on Bucky’s door. “Dad felt that I wasn’t grateful enough.  So he cut me off, gave me enough for about a month of rent and sent me off on my own.  Barton is a friend of a friend of a friend, so here I am.”

“So here you are,” Bucky echoed dumbly, then blinked away the idiot and shook his head.  “I meant, why are you here?” he asked.  “At my door?”

Tony blinked, nonplussed.  “Oh, well, that’s because Barton kicked me out, and you seem like a fun guy, so I was hoping maybe I could hang out here until Barton sees for himself that I didn’t destroy anything.  I barely even dented it,” he grouched.  Bucky really didn’t want to know.

“Don’t you have anything better to be doing than hanging around the apartment all day?” Bucky asked.  “Like a job, maybe?” He was aware that he was being rude.  He also knew that he’d just come off his Heat less than twenty-four hours ago, and the apartment hadn’t had time to air out yet.  The strongest concentration was in his bedroom, of course, but any Alpha would be able to tell what he’d been doing for the past few days.  And the last thing Bucky needed was an Alpha offering to ‘help’ him through his next Heat.  

The only reason Clint had been allowed in, other than that he was the landlord and fixing things was kind of his responsibility as long as Bucky didn’t deliberately fuck something up, was that Clint was only a Beta.  Hee wouldn’t have noticed anything was amiss.

Tony scowled.  “I work!” he protested.  Bucky gave him an unimpressed glare, and he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.  “I just work from home,” he grumbled.  “It keeps me from causing a scandal.”  He sounded bitter, and Bucky wondered how much of his job was really just busy work to keep him out of the public and away from his father.

Bucky sighed.  “Look, Mr. Stark,” he started, but Tony cut him off.

“Please don’t,” he asked, looking pained.  “Mr. Stark is my dad.  It’s just Tony.”

“Tony,” Bucky corrected.  “Look, it’s nothin’ personal.  I just can’t let you in right now.”  He could feel his cheeks warming with embarrassment and hoped that Tony wouldn’t notice.

The Alpha frowned.  His nose twitched, and Bucky’s cheeks flared even hotter when his eyes widened.  “Oh!” he breathed.  “Oh, I’m so sorry! I’ll just….I’ll just go, yeah? I’m sure Barton’s almost done anyhow, and I should probably go do...something.  Stuff.  Yeah.”  His head was nodding rapidly as he walked backwards, not even watching where he was going.  He backed into the wall and then tripped over the hall rug before smacking his hip into a long table and fumbling when he tried to keep the vase from tipping over.  His face was as red as Bucky’s by the time he finally managed to grab the doorknob to his apartment. It took him another two tries, but he managed to fumble it open and stumble inside, stunned brown eyes meeting his one last time before the door closed with a decisive slam.

Bucky took a few deep breaths, willing his blush to fade.  Stepping back into his own apartment, he closed the door - softly - behind him, then turned and leaned back against it, letting the back of his head thunk gently against the hard surface.  He should have never opened the door.  Now his curiosity was eating at him.  What sort of job could Tony possibly have that he could do from his apartment, and that occasionally might result in explosions?  

Bucky made his way to the bedroom, his eyes flicking over at his computer before he turned reluctantly towards the bed.  He’d get cleaned up first, then call Steve to reassure his best friend that he’d made it through yet another solo Heat just fine, thank you very much.  And then….and then he’d see if he could figure out why, exactly, Tony Stark was currently living in a tiny apartment in Bed Stuy, and why Bucky couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of panicking Tony and (sort of) helpful Bucky.

The phone rang, and Bucky pressed the switch on his headset.  Before he could offer the standard greeting, Natasha’s crisp voice was speaking.  “Who is Tony, and what does he want with you?”  

Bucky blinked.  “Tony?” he asked.  “Uh...probably a client.”  He had at least three of them named Tony, but if she was talking about a specific one, then it was probably the same guy he’d been speaking to on a semi-regular basis for the past several weeks.  How Tony always seemed to get him, he had no idea.  “Why is he calling the main line?” he asked out loud.

“That’s what I want to know,” Natasha told him snippily.  “I told him that ‘James’ was on another call, and we’d be happy to send him to one of our other operators, but he’s being very insistent.”  There was a pause, then Natasha added, gentler this time.  “Do I need to black list this guy, Bucky?”

Bucky blinked.  “What? No!” he blurted out.  He could practically hear Natasha’s doubt over the phone line.  “Look, it’s fine,” he said.  “Tony’s a good guy, and he’s never given me weird vibes or anythin’.  I think he’s just….lonely,” Bucky told her, realizing as he said it that it was probably true.  There was no way this Tony was in an Alpha Rut every time he called, but that hadn’t stopped him from calling.  And it hadn’t stopped Bucky from answering.  In fact, Bucky had started looking forward to hearing from Tony.  He didn’t think too hard about what that might mean.

“If you’re sure,” Natasha said, still doubtful.  Bucky smiled.

“I’m sure,” he reassured her.  “I guess he called while I was on th’ last call.”  He’d just gotten off a phone call with one of the semi-regulars, an older Alpha who liked younger Omegas to tell him he was still a big, strong Alpha and that they’d be honored to have him take care of them.  He also liked to dress Omegas up in pretty things.  Bucky didn’t mind; it was just words, what did he care?  But with Tony, it was different.  Their preferences seemed to run along the same path, and even beyond the sex talk, Tony was a fun guy to talk to.  And he always made sure to stay on the line for at least an hour, talking about nothing in particular.  It was a bit of a relief, if Bucky was honest.

“Very well,” Natasha said crisply. “I will put him through.  But Bucky, I’m telling you this as a friend, okay?  Don’t get attached.  He’s a client, and you’re a sex line operator.  Don’t cross that line.”  It was both advice and warning, and Bucky took it at face value, his lips curling up into a reluctant smile at the protective tone that had snuck into the Alpha female’s voice.

“Yeah, I know,” he said.  “You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

Natasha snorted.  “I always have to worry about you,” she retorted.  “You and that blonde retriever you call your best friend.”  Before Bucky could reply, there was a quiet click, indicating that Natasha had transferred a call.

“Welcome to Dynamics.  My name is James, and I’m here to help you.  What can I do to please you?” he asked.

“James?” Tony’s familiar voice rolled down the line, and Bucky grinned. “Oh, thank god.  I thought that scary woman was going to come hunt me down or transfer me to the FBI or something,” he said.

Bucky blinked.  “Geeze, Tony, that’s a bit much, don’t ya think?” he asked, not bothering to hide the Brooklyn accent.  Tony had made his preference for Bucky’s natural speech known early on.

“You didn’t hear her when I asked for you,” Tony muttered grumpily, and Bucky chuckled.  He had no idea what Nat had said to the other Alpha, but he’d heard her when she gave Steve a dressing down for being overly solicitous once.  Steve had blushed for days after that.  He was vaguely surprised that Tony was still coherent.

“It’s her job to protect us,” Bucky told him honestly.  “She takes it very seriously.”

There was a long pause, and Bucky wondered if he’d said something wrong.  At last, Tony spoke, sounding hesitant and unsure.  “Do you need that?” he asked.  “Protection from me?”  He sounded almost hurt, and Bucky let a comforting rumble travel down the line.

“Naw, Tony,” he said.  “You wouldn’t hurt me, even if you knew where I was,” he reassured the other man, absolutely certain of that much.  “She’s jus’ bein’ overly cautious.  I let her know you were okay,” he reassured the Alpha.

Another pause, and then a snort.  “Just okay?” Tony complained.  “That’s hurtful, James.  I’m wounded. You’ve hurt my feelings.”

Bucky huffed a laugh.  “Yeah?” he asked, adding a purr to his tone.  “Well, how ‘bout I make that up to you, then?” 

Tony agreed.  “Yes, you should definitely do that.  Absolutely.”

“And how would you like me to do that?” Bucky murmured, his voice dropping a register as he readied himself for whatever fantasy Tony had this time.

“Tell me how to properly apologize to an Omega for invading their privacy,” Tony told him.  It was so unexpected that it took Bucky a moment to change tracks.

“What?” he asked dumbly.

Tony sighed mournfully.  “Look, I have this guy that lives near me.  He’s an Omega, and I wasn’t trying to hit on him or anything - well, okay, maybe I was, a bit - but it wasn’t like it was  _ serious _ or anything, and then I caught Heat scent, and I don’t know what I looked like, but the guy looked pissed, and I didn’t mean to, honest, but it was already done, and I’d like to say I’m sorry, but I don’t know how!”  That last bit came out more a wail of despair than a plea for help, and Bucky winced at the new decibels.

“First off, slow down a bit an’ breathe,” he suggested.  “I can’t understand you when you talk that fast.”  He waited until Tony’s breaths evened out a bit, then continued.  “Now, did this mystery Omega say anythin’ to you?” he asked.

“I sort of ran away before he could do anything,” Tony admitted.  “Made a complete idiot of myself while I was at it.  And I want to tell him I’m sorry, but I don’t think he likes me.”  He sounded so sad about the possibility of some random Omega not liking him that Bucky couldn’t help but feel sympathetic.  He still had no idea how to help him.  When he messed up with a girl, he usually just bought her flowers or a piece of jewelry.  Or else he’d just let go, and move on to the next one.  He had never been one much for relationships, and that was before the accident.  Now, he didn’t even try.

“Well, what have you tried so far?” he asked.  Silence on the other end, and Bucky closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “You haven’t even tried yet, have you?” he asked.

More sullen silence, and Bucky wondered if Tony had hung up on him.  But a glance at the computer indicated that the call was still live, so he waited.  “I’m not very good at this,” Tony admitted at last.

“Not very good at what?” Bucky countered.  “Apologizin’?”  Tony gave an affirmative noise, and Bucky sighed.  “Look, Tony, why don’t you just knock on this guy’s door an’ say you’re sorry?” he suggested.  “Most people will accept that, if you mean it.  And if he doesn’t, then that’s his problem.”  A considering hum.  “What is it?” he asked, trying not to sigh.  Tony genuinely seemed to be distressed about this, and if Bucky could help, then he would.

“I’m not sure yet,” Tony said, but he sounded distracted.  There was the sound of a drawer or something being opened and shut again, and more rustling.  “When I screw up with Pepper, I usually just buy her shoes.  Or, well, I let her buy herself a pair of shoes on my account,” he amended.  “I have no idea what women like.”

Bucky gave a huff of disbelieving laughter.  “Are you serious?” he asked.  Reproachful silence, and then he sighed.  “Of course you are.”  He thought for a moment.  “Well, I don’t know if that’ll work on a guy,” he said, “though I suppose you could try.  And there’s always flowers or jewelry.”

“Aren’t those for girls?” Tony asked skeptically.

Bucky rolled his eyes.  “Have you never seen a male Omega showing off the jewelry he’s been gifted from suitors?” he asked.  “And flowers have different meanings, so you could get an arrangement that says ‘sorry’ or ‘forgive me’ or ‘be mine’.  Any shop owner worth their salt could tell you what flowers to use.”

“And what if he hates them?” Tony asked, his voice tense.

Bucky gave in and rolled his eyes.  “Then you try somethin’ else.  Or you could, y’know, jus’ use your words like a big boy,” he pointed out, then waited while Tony considered that.

“You know, I feel like you’re sassing me,” Tony said at last.  “No, seriously,” he went on, as if Bucky had tried to say something, “I can hear the sarcasm from here.  You’re mocking my very real plight here.  I am deeply offended.”

“No, you’re not,” Bucky told him.

“No, I’m not,” Tony agreed, this time with real warmth in his tone.  There was a noise in the background, and Tony must have turned away from the phone, because the yelled “Sugar bear!” was muted, just a bit, before Tony’s voice dropped.  “Uh yeah, just...give me a sec here, would you?” he asked. “I’ve gotta finish this call.”  There was a deeper voice heard in the background, but Bucky couldn’t make out the words, so he figured whoever Tony’s visitor was, he was probably still in another room.

“Sounds like you’ve got company,” Bucky drawled.  “Gotta run?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Tony answered, already sounding distracted.  “Um...thank you,” he added.

Bucky smiled.  “Sure, any time,” he told the Alpha.  “And Tony?” he added before the other man could hang up.  “Good luck.  I hope things work out for you.”

“Thanks, James,” Tony told him, and Bucky fought the urge to tell the Alpha to just call him Bucky.  “I’ll call you again soon.”  He hung up.

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Bucky replied, though there was nobody there to hear him.  Disconnecting the call, he stared at the wall, wondering what sort of Omega had caught Tony’s interest enough that the Alpha was worried about offending him with an apology.  

Not that he was jealous or anything.  Because he wasn’t.

Before he could think any harder about that, the phone pinged again, and Bucky checked the next caller’s brief before turning his headset back on.

“Welcome to Dynamics.  My name is James, and I’m here to help you.  What can I do to please you?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets a new arm! Yep, that's it. That's all this chapter is.

“Bucky, why are there a bunch of flowers on your floor?” Steve asked as he stepped into Bucky’s apartment, stepping carefully around the haphazardly arranged vases filled with all manner of flowers.  Red and white roses, pink carnations, pale lavender hyacinthe, white tulips, just to name a few. Bucky regretted ever suggesting flowers as a suitable apology gift.

 

“Don’t wanna talk ‘bout it,” he grunted, struggling to button his jeans one-handed, a hair elastic in his mouth.

 

He could hear the amusement in Steve’s tone.  “Okay,” he said agreeably, which instantly made Bucky suspicious.  “So, I hear your Alpha neighbor is _the_ Tony Stark.  What’s he like?”  It was asked with forced casualness, and Bucky lifted his head to glare at his friend, who just grinned back unrepentantly from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over a well-built chest while he waited for Bucky to finish getting dressed so they could head out.

 

“He’s an asshole,” Bucky muttered irritably.  To be fair, he wasn’t sure if he was more upset that Tony obviously couldn’t bring himself to deliver an apology in person, or that Bucky hadn’t put two and two together before.  An Alpha client and an Alpha neighbor both named Tony? Bucky didn’t believe in coincidences; he should’ve figured it out.

 

He glared mutinously at the latest bouquet; a large vase filled to overflowing with white Lilies of the Valley.  He was sorely tempted to just toss the flowers in the trash - they were just going to die in a few days anyhow - but something stopped him each and every time.  And so the flowers just kept piling up.

 

Steve was still waiting for a proper answer, and Bucky sighed.  “He’s tryin’ to apologize for showin’ up the day after my Heat and embarrassin’ me, I think,” he admitted reluctantly.  “But bein’ who he is, I don’t think he knows what ‘in moderation’ even _means_.”

 

Steve laughed, and it was warm and easy, and Bucky felt some of the tension leave him as he gave his friend a small smile.  It was kinda funny, if he thought about it the right way. Tony Stark was apparently an incredibly socially awkward mess of a human being, loud and charming and brash, but also compassionate and determined.  Bucky was having a hard time holding onto his annoyance at the handsome Alpha.

 

“Ready to go?” Steve asked once Bucky had managed to get his hair into a messy bun.  The Omega nodded, meeting Steve at the door. Steve smiled at him, and Bucky rolled his eyes.  Steve’s tone was full of pride and affection as he said, “I’m really glad you’ve decided to go ahead with the procedure.”

 

Bucky nodded, ducking his head as they walked down the hall towards Steve’s car.  Months ago, Steve had come to him and urged him to apply for a new prosthetic prototype that would be free for volunteers.  Bucky had promptly thrown Steve out of the apartment, and hadn’t spoken to him for six weeks, ignoring his calls and refusing to answer the door.  Finally fed up, Steve had tracked Clint down and gotten the Beta to let him into Bucky’s apartment. Steve had yelled at him, then hugged him, and hadn’t brought up the program again.

 

Then, two days ago, a pamphlet had shown up outside his door with the morning flower delivery.  Bucky had been tempted to tear it up, but the logo at the top had caught his eyes. Stark Industries was in charge of the program.  He’d known that they’d gotten out of the weapons industry - even as isolated as he was, the news had been on every station for weeks - but he hadn’t realized that they were still providing other services for the military.  Better gear and vehicles and tools. And prosthetics for soldiers that lost limbs while serving their country.

 

On the back of the pamphlet was a date and time written in marker in blocky letters.  And a brief note. _This is what I do._  There was no name attached to it, but Bucky knew who had sent it.  He had been determined to ignore it, to just let the date pass him by, but something kept drawing him back to it.  Eventually, he’d contacted Steve and told him that he was considering seeing if he was still applicable for the volunteer program.  Steve had jumped on it immediately, promising to take the days off of work to take him in for the procedure and subsequent testing. By that point, Bucky really didn’t have a say in the matter anymore.  Which was probably why he’d called Steve and told him in the first place, he supposed.

 

The drive to the hospital that would carry out the surgery was fraught with tense silence.  Steve kept trying to get him to open up, but Bucky was wound too tightly to relax into a conversation.  Instead, he gave short, abrupt answers or else ignored Steve altogether until his friend gave up and let silence fill the car.

 

As Steve pulled up to the hospital, Bucky stared up at the building in apprehension, doubts starting to fill him.  What if he didn’t qualify? What if the damage to his arm was too great? What if he couldn’t use the prosthetic? What would it look like? Would he like it?  Did it matter? Could he still back out?

 

The sound of the driver’s side door closing jolted Bucky out of his spiraling thoughts.  Bracing himself, he opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement. Steve’s hand landed on his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze, and Bucky smiled up at him, grateful.  “It’ll be fine,” Steve told him. Bucky nodded, taking a deep breath before leading way to the elevators that would take them into the main body of the hospital, where they’d make their way to the Prosthetics Clinic.

 

Bucky tried not to think too hard about what he was doing - and why - while he got himself signed in and got directions to the correct ward.

 

“This is stupid,” he growled.  “Why’’m I doin’ this again?” He’d been doing just fine for the past three years.  Why change his mind now?  


“I don’t know, Buck,” Steve replied, though Bucky hadn’t really been looking for an answer.  “But for what’s it worth, I’m glad you’ve decided to go ahead with it.”

 

Bucky felt his face heat up.  “Sap,” he muttered. Steve just laughed, not the least bit offended.

 

Standing in front of the door to the Prosthetics department, Bucky stared at the Stark Industries logo in the bottom right corner.  Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and opened the door, aware of Steve at his back.

 

Inside, the office was just like any other room at the hospital.  Wide, squashed blue chairs, pale tan walls, a couple of green plants here and there.  A long receptionist’s desk made of cherry wood ran along one wall, and a television bolted in the corner was running what was effectively an infomercial on Stark Industries prosthetics and the doctors that performed the surgeries.

 

Aware that Steve was waiting for him to make a decision - this was his last chance to back out, to walk out the door and not look back.  His hand tightened on the pamphlet in his hand. _This is what I do_.  Determined, Bucky walked up to the reception desk.  Reading the name plate on the desk top, he took a breath.  “Miss Hill?” he asked.

 

The dark-haired lady with a no-nonsense attitude looked up at him.  “Ah, Mr. Barnes, I presume,” she said. “We’ve been expecting you. Your paperwork has already been processed.”  She stood up and came around the desk, “If you’ll folllow me, we’ll get you started on your consultation, where you’ll learn about the procedure and get to ask any questions you have.  You’ll also get a chance to meet the engineer who designed your prosthetic limb.”

 

Bucky took a step towards her, then stopped to look for Steve.  The blonde had settled himself in one of the waiting room chairs and seemed perfectly content there.  He winked at Bucky. “You’ll be fine,” he told him.

 

“Easy for you say,” Bucky muttered, self-consciously reaching up to touch the heavily scarred stump that was all that remained of his left arm.  Realizing that the lady was still waiting for him, he turned and met her eyes. “Lead on,” he said. She gave a short nod, then turned on her heels and led the way towards the back offices.

 

Hill led him to a large, comfortable-looking office and handed him a small folder, then excused herself.  Bucky reached for the folder and opened it up, finding the usual privacy clauses and procedural explanations.  There was insurance information, phone numbers to call in case of problems, and so on and so forth. Bucky set it aside for later, then looked at the second packet of information he’d been given.  His breath caught as what he was staring at set in. The arm was a gorgeous gunmetal grey with gold trim along the various plates. There were detailed diagrams and drawings that explained how the prosthetic would be attached directly to his nervous and muscular systems, so that it should - in theory - work just like a real arm would.  Bucky didn’t understand most of it, but he supposed that as long as it worked, he didn’t really care.

 

The door opened just as he was skimming the various disclaimers and clauses, admitting a petite woman with a warm smile.  “Mr. Barnes, my name is Helen Cho. I’ll be going over some basics with you before the procedure, and I’ll be the one to handle any post-operation issues.”  She moved around the desk and sat down, folding her hands on the desk in front of her as she considered him. Bucky realized she was waiting for him to say something.

 

“Ah, James,” he introduced himself. “Though I guess you already knew that.  It seems like you’ve been expectin’ me.” He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

 

Doctor Cho smiled at him.  “Well, yes,” she admitted. “When the owner’s son takes a personal interest in a client, there isn’t much we can do about it.  But I’ve looked over your files, and you are exactly the sort of person we hope to help.”

 

Bucky narrowed his eyes.  “I’m not a soldier,” he disagreed.  “And I’m not an Alpha. Aren’t those the people you’re tryin’ to help?”

 

Doctor Cho’s smile was more genuine when she admitted, “That’s been the trend so far,” she admitted, “but our intent is actually to help anybody who has lost a limb due to injury.  Primarily, that’s been Alpha soldiers in the military, but we’ve had a few Betas and Omegas, mostly people who were either born without all four limbs, or who, like you, lost a limb via accident.  Secondary gender doesn’t really matter except that we have to be more conscious of timing.” She flipped through a folder that she’d brought in with her. “Speaking of timing, I’m given to understand that you’re currently unmated?” she asked.

 

Bucky nodded.  “Yes.”

 

Cho nodded.  “Good,” she murmured.  “Then there’s no question of pregnancy.”  Bucky’s eyes widened in horror, heat flooding his face.  Cho politely ignored his embarrassment. “And when was your last Heat?” she asked.  “We’ll also need to determine when your next one is likely to fall. Do you have someone that will be able to stay with you for the first week or so after surgery?”

 

Bucky whimpered.


	8. Chapter 8

“Welcome to Dynamics.  My name is James, and I’m here to help you.  What can I do to please you?” Bucky answered the call, his metal hand flipping a pen between his fingers.  It had been three days since he’d shattered the last one, which was an improvement. The soft click-click between his fingers was kind of soothing, too.

 

“You could start by telling me what you’re wearing,” a very familiar voice told him.  Bucky’s feet dropped to the floor as he straightened up.

 

“Tony!” he blurted out, then resisted the urge to cover his face.  Tony still didn’t know that James was Bucky, and Bucky preferred it that way.  “Uh, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you again so soon,” he said. Then, “Oh, my god. I’m so sorry.”

 

Tony chuckled warmly.  “It’s fine,” he reassured him.  “Rough week?”

 

“Rough month,” Bucky told him honestly.  Between the consultation and the surgery and the follow-up appointments and physical therapy, he’d been out of the apartment more in the last month than he’d been during the previous year.  Much to his surprise, though, the arm itself worked remarkably without problems. Most of the therapy was him adjusting to having the extra weight where before there had been none, and dealing with strengthening the muscles in his shoulders and chest.

 

“Sorry to hear that,” Tony said, sounding genuinely sympathetic.

 

Bucky smiled.  “Thanks,” he said.  “I’ve gotta admit, though,” he added with a low purr, “it just got a lot better.”

 

“Yeah?” Tony asked, his voice deepening with renewed interest.  “How so?”

 

Bucky grinned.  “Well, I just got a call from my favorite Alpha,” he murmured.

 

“Oh?  Am I your favorite Alpha?” Tony teased.  “Does that mean I get something special?”

 

Bucky smiled.  “What? Being my favorite Alpha isn’t special enough?” he asked archly.

 

“Of course not,” Tony told him just as snootily.  “Because I’ll have you know that I’m everybody’s favorite Alpha.”  Bucky didn’t believe him for an instant. From previous conversations, he’d gathered that Tony had a couple of good friends that weren’t interested in either his status or his money, and not much else.  Still, he supposed Tony did deserve a little something, in return for the arm.

 

“Very well,” he agreed.  “Your reward is one question.  You can ask me one question, and I will answer truthfully.”

 

“Any question?” Tony asked.

 

  
“Was that a question?” Bucky teased.

 

Tony’s laughter was warm.  “Very well, then,” he said.  “Let’s see….okay. My one question is this:  what do you really look like?”

 

Bucky blinked.  “That’s your question?” he asked.  “I mean, I’ll answer it, of course, but can I ask why?”  

 

“Because we’ve been talking for months now,” Tony pointed out.  “And I still know almost nothing about you, other than that you’re an Omega and you have a really, really sexy voice.  So yeah, that’s my question.”

 

Bucky was pretty sure there was more to it than that, but he didn’t press.  “Well, then,” he said, “let’s see. I’m six feet tall, shoulder-length brown hair.  Grey eyes. Fit, but not really built.” Feeling suddenly reckless, he added, “I also happen to have a cybernetic left arm that some genius called a mere prosthetic.”

 

Silence on the other end.  Bucky just waited. “I don’t suppose you live in Bed Stuy, do you?” Tony asked slowly.

 

Bucky grinned.  “Oh, I might.”

 

“Bucky.”  It was said flatly, and Bucky’s smile fell away.

 

“James Buchanan Barnes, actually,” he admitted.  “Bucky is a nickname.”

 

More silence, and Bucky started to wonder if he’d made a bad call.  He had  _ thought _ Tony was interested in him, as Bucky, but maybe he was wrong?  Maybe it would’ve been better to make something up. It wasn’t like Tony would’ve known, right?

 

“I’ve been calling into a phone sex line to talk to an Omega that’s lived down the hall from me this entire time?” Tony asked, his voice tipping into disbelief.

 

Bucky shrugged.  “Well, to be fair, it wasn’t like I knew who you were until a month ago,” he pointed out.

 

“How many Tony’s do you talk to?” Tony asked,  his tone sliding closer to amusement.

 

“It’s not like it’s an uncommon name,” Bucky pointed out.  “I mean, if your name was Francis, then maybe I would’ve figured it out sooner.”

 

Tony’s laughter was full of warmth.  “All right, I’ll give you that,” he conceded.  “But my name isn’t Francis.” He paused for a moment, and Bucky wondered what he was thinking.  “So, if I were to walk down the hallway and knock on your door, what would you do?” he asked.

 

Bucky hummed thoughtfully, drawing it out as he pretended to think about it.  “Well, first of all, I’m still on the clock,” he pointed out. “So even if I opened the door, you’d have to listen to me having sex with other Alphas.”

 

“Or I could just, you know, leave the phone call running, and you could ditch the headset,” Tony suggested, his tone a low growl.

 

Bucky purred back instinctively, which only encouraged Tony’s low rumble.  “I could do that,” he agreed. “But you have to understand, I have to pay the bills.  I refuse to be a kept Omega.”

 

Tony’s rumble shifted into a rusty laugh.  “I would never try and keep you, James,” he promised.  “Or should I call you Bucky now?”

 

Bucky stood up.  “You can call me whatever you want,” he told Tony.  “I’m pretty sure I’ve told you that before,” he said.

 

“Yes, but now that I know you’re  _ you _ , it seems weird to call you darling or sweetheart or my Omega,” Tony pointed out.  There was a knock at Bucky’s apartment door, and he reached out, flipping the lock before opening it to reveal a grinning Alpha.

 

Bucky slipped his headset off and tossed it onto a side table.  Tony set his phone down carefully, the call still active. “Hey,” Tony said.

 

“Hey,” Bucky returned, reaching out and cupping hands to either side of Tony’s face, careful with the metal one.  Tony pressed a kiss to the metal palm, then tilted his face up for a proper kiss, which Bucky gave to him gladly, relishing in the pressure of another mouth against his.  The last month had given him more than just two arms. It had brought back some of the confidence, of the old Bucky, from before the accident. Of course, that wasn’t all due to the arm.  A lot of it had to do with the man currently shoving him further into the apartment and kicking the door closed behind them.

 

Bucky pulled away first, and Tony let him go, but he didn’t go far.  Bucky’s hands dropped to Tony’s waist. “So,” he murmured, “how does this work?”

 

Bucky grinned.  “Well,” he murmured, turning and pressing a kiss to Tony’s palm before flicking his tongue out to lick a stripe up the sensitive skin.  Tony shivered. “I can think of a few places to start. Alpha.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dynamics Shorts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14820029) by [celtic7irish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtic7irish/pseuds/celtic7irish)




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